The'Highway 


CXINTON 
SCOLLAT 


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*Unive«Jty  of  Co!.. 
IRVINE^ 


A  Knight  of  the  Highway 


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GEORGE  WILLIAM  BROWNING 
Publisher 

CLINTON,  NEW  YORK 


A  KNIGHT 


THE 


HIGHWAY 


By  CLINTON  SCOLLARD 


1908 : 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  BROWNING 
CLINTON,  N.  Y. 


'T2. 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  Co. 

Copyright,  1908,  by 
CLINTON  SCOLLARD. 


To 
CHAELES  HENRY  SMYTH,  Ph.D. 

This  Romance 
Of  "The  Hills  of  Home." 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Ne'er-Do- Well  7 

II.  By  the  Mohondaga  20 

III.  Off  for  the  Hop-Fields  39 

IV.  At  the  Mertons'  55 
V.  An  Old  Acquaintance  70 

VI.  The  New  Pole-Puller  88 

VII.  The  Spring  at  the  Wood-Edge     102 

VIII.  The  Hop-Dance  115 

IX.  In  the  Orchard  132 

X.  A  Midnight  Blaze  143 

XI.  A  Morning  Stroll  158 

XII.  The  Blue  Creek  Road  168 

XIII.  An  Arrival  181 

XIV.  Good-By  to  the  Hop-Fields  193 

XV.  Back  to  Hintonville  207 

XVI.  Commencement  at  Monroe 

College  217 


A  KNIGHT 
OF  THE  HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL 

THE     powerful     locomotive     which 
drew      the      long      freight-train 
came  to  a  sudden  stop.     Some 
thing  in  the  nature  of  a  spasm, 
so    human    was    it,    communicated    itself 
from  car  to  car,  and  each  in  turn  ceased 
to  move.     The  jar  wakened  Rossiter,  out 
stretched  upon  the  top  of  some  boxes  and 
bales,  from  a  heavy  sleep,  and  on  opening 
his  eyes  and  finding  himself  encompassed 
by  a  breathless  tropical  blackness  he  did 
not  for  an  instant  realize  where  he  was. 
He  put  out  his  hand  and  encountered  the 
boards  of  the  car-roof  just  above  his  head. 
Then    he    recalled   his   whereabouts.      He 
was  streaming  with  perspiration,  for  the 
atmosphere    of    the    confined    space    was 
stifling. 
All  day  the  pitiless  September  sun  had 


8  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

blazed  in  a  coppery  heaven;  all  day  the 
parched  earth  had  given  back  to  the  sky 
the  fumes  of  heat;  and  yet  Eossiter  had 
clung  to  his  oven-like  retreat,  in  the  first 
place  because  with  every  revolution  of  the 
wheels  he  was  carried  nearer  to  his  des 
tination,  and  in  the  second  place  because 
he  could  not  easily  descend  from  the  train 
while  it  was  in  motion.  Half  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  a  few  dry  cookies  had  served 
to  quiet  the  gnawings  of  hunger,  while  two 
wizened  lemons  had  in  a  measure  allayed 
the  pangs  of  thirst.  But  now  he  sought  in 
vain  for  the  last  precious  bit  of  fruit 
which  he  had  intended  to  keep  against  this 
time  of  urgent  need.  The  jolting  of  the 
car  had  evidently  caused  his  treasure  to 
roll  from  the  spot  where  he  had  placed  it 
with  such  care.  Uttering  an  exclamation 
of  disappointment,  he  dragged  himself  a 
few  feet  and  placed  his  lips  to  a  crack  in 
the  side  of  the  car,  through  which  he 
drank  eagerly  great  draughts  of  the  par 
tially  cooled  night  air.  As  he  was  about  to 
resume  his  former  position  he  inhaled  a 
heavy  waft  of  engine  smoke. 

'  '  The  devil ! "  he  cried,  with  a  sputter  of 
disgust.    ' '  This  is  more  than  I  can  stand ! ' ' 


THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL 


He  seized  his  little  bundle  of  clothes 
and  worked  his  way  over  the  bales  and 
boxes  to  the  door.  For  a  time  he  feared 
that  he  was  hopelessly  a  prisoner,  as  the 
obstinate  barrier  to  his  escape  would  not 
budge.  The  perspiration  streamed  from 
his  forehead  into  his  eyes,  and  his  hair 
was  as  wet  as  though  he  had  soused  his 
head  in  water.  He  had  taken  stock  of  the 
fastenings  when  he  had  stowed  himself 
away  at  Clevalo,  but  he  was  discovering 
that  an  easy  entrance  into  a  freight-car 
packed  with  merchandise  that  has  space 
enough  to  shift  slightly  does  not  neces 
sarily  mean  an  easy  exit. 

At  length,  after  several  sharp  creaks  of 
remonstrance,  the  door  gaped  sufficiently 
to  allow  him  to  squeeze  his  body  through. 
He  cast  a  glance  up  and  down  the  ad 
joining  track  and  then  leaped.  As  his 
feet  crunched  upon  the  cinders  someone 
sprang  from  the  next  car  to  the  top  of  the 
one  he  had  just  quitted.  It  was  a  brake- 
man. 

"You  damn  tramp!"  he  shouted,  and 
raised  a  hand  as  though  about  to  hurl  a 
missile. 

Rossiter  ran,  dodging  as  he  went,  but 


10  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

nothing  save  a  harsh  guffaw  followed  from 
the  car-top. 

"Sold,  Johnny!"  bellowed  the  brake- 
man;  "out  I  can  tell  ye  if  I'd  had  a  hunk 
of  coal,  ye'd  have  got  it  blim  in  the  back!" 

Just  then,  with  a  long  series  of  jerks, 
the  train  started.  An  electric  light  be 
yond  the  tracks  threw  the  gesticulating 
figure  on  the  car-top  into  strong  outline 
for  a  moment  and  the  pose  held  Kossi- 
ter's  attention,  but  the  effect  was  quickly 
spoiled  by  the  onward  movement  of  the 
train.  Kossiter  now  turned  to  survey  his 
surroundings.  The  blinking  electrics  told 
him  that  he  was  in  a  town  of  considerable 
size.  Above  the  rumbling  cars  several 
large  buildings  loomed  blackly.  Behind 
him  the  ground  sloped  sharply  to  a 
stream,  which  he  could  not  see  on  account 
of  a  white  vapor  which  hung  over  it.  At 
his  left  was  a  bridge,  and  as  he  examined 
this,  and  the  ugly  frame  structures  which 
lined  the  street  toward  which  it  led,  a 
sense  of  familiarity  gave  him  a  swift  thrill 
of  surprise. 

"The  deuce!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  won 
der  if  it  is?" 

He  wheeled  to  the  right  and  regarded 


THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL  11 

a  long  freight-house  and  a  tall  pile  capped 
by  a  huge  sign,  the  letters  upon  which  he 
vainly  strove  to  distinguish.  A  puzzled 
expression  crossed  his  face,  and  he  waited 
impatiently  for  the  caboose  of  the  freight- 
train  to  pass.  At  length  the  tracks  were 
clear.  A  few  rods  away,  on  one  side  of  a 
small  square,  the  lights  of  a  hotel  twinkled 
through  the  branches  of  a  row  of  elm- 
trees.  Directly  opposite  was  a  railway 
station,  a  short  distance  from  which  a 
freight-and-accommodation-train  was  pull 
ing  out. 

"Illica,  by  Jove!"  cried  Bossiter. 
"Well,  if  this  isn't  curious!"  and  his  mind 
went  back  a  dozen  years  to  the  June  day 
when  he  had  last  set  foot  in  the  quiet  city 
on  the  banks  of  the  Mohondaga.  Then 
he  was  a  thoughtless  youth  fresh  from 
college,  full  of  a  youth's  ideals  and 
dreams,  not  without  ambition, — and  now 
—well,  his  present  status  was  not  one  to 
be  contemplated  with  pride,  nor  did  the 
vista  down  which  he  looked  in  retrospect 
afford  him  many  gleams  of  satisfaction. 
He  was  wont  to  tell  himself  at  times  that 
he  had  had  hard  luck,  but  when  he  faced 
the  clear,  cold  truth  he  knew  in  his  inner- 


12  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

most  soul  that  luck  had  played  no  part 
whatever  in  his  descent  of  the  ladder  of 
respectability.  Never  more  fully  than  at 
this  moment,  amid  surroundings  long  ago 
familiar,  did  he  realize  what  an  utter 
wreck  he  had  made  of  his  life.  But  he  put 
on  the  devil-may-care  air  he  was  at  inter 
vals  accustomed  to  assume  and  slouched 
across  the  tracks  in  the  direction  of  the 
station. 

"What  hour  can  it  be?"  he  muttered. 
"Bather  late,  I  judge,  by  the  fact  that 
there  are  so  few  people  about." 

There  was  a  man  standing  in  the  open 
station  door-way  whom  Eossiter  took, 
from  his  dress,  to  be  either  a  ticket  agent 
or  conductor.  He  had  his  watch  in  his 
hand. 

"Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  the 
time?"  Bossiter  asked. 

The  railroad  man  opened  his  lips  as 
though  he  were  about  to  answer,  but  as  he 
glanced  at  his  questioner  astonishment 
seemed  to  choke  his  utterance.  He  looked 
Bossiter  up  and  down,  and  finally  let  his 
eyes  rest  upon  the  vagrant's  countenance, 
covered  with  a  ten  days'  growth  of  beard, 
the  forehead  grimy  and  streaked  with 


THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL  13 

perspiration,  the  hair  hanging  in  greasy 
elf-locks  from  beneath  a  torn  cap. 

"Well,  if  you  ain't  a  perfect  bloomin' 
beauty!"  he  exclaimed,  with  an  amused 
chuckle. 

Eossiter's  hand  went  up  to  his  face  as 
he  moved  on.  He  searched  his  pockets  for 
what  served  him  as  a  handkerchief,  pulled 
it  out,  and  mopped  his  forehead,  cheeks 
and  neck.  Then  he  paused  an  instant  and 
endeavored  to  smooth  his  hair  a  trifle,  but 
without  much  success.  The  man's  words 
had  affected  him  more  than  such  a  speech 
would  usually  have  done.  He  had  re 
ceived  too  many  kicks  and  cuffs  and  oaths 
to  heed  them  much,  as  a  rule,  but  somehow 
the  rebuff  which  he  had  just  met  stung 
him  like  a  sharp  blow  upon  an  open 
wound.  Heretofore  he  had  associated  II- 
lica  with  nothing  but  pleasant  things. 
Whenever  he  had  visited  it  formerly  from 
the  small  town  less  than  a  dozen  miles 
distant  where  he  had  passed  his  college 
days,  he  had  always  been  treated  with 
very  marked  favor.  To  Illica  the  students 
frequently  sojourned  for  their  half-holi 
days.  It  was  where  they  attended  the 
theatre,  had  their  dinners,  and  sometimes 


14  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

joined  in  social  functions.  Among  the 
young  men  of  his  time  at  Monroe  College, 
as  the  adjoining  institution  was  called,  no 
one  visited  Illica  more  frequently  than 
Rossiter.  With  plenty  of  money  at  his 
command,  possessed  of  a  bright  manner 
and  a  ready  wit,  and  being  withal  quite 
prominent  as  an  athlete,  he  had  once  had 
a  number  of  friends  and  many  acquain 
tances  in  the  staid  but  pleasant  inland  city. 

He  supposed  that  he  had  buried  shame; 
he  had  told  himself  that  he  had  worn  out 
regret;  but  now  both  rose,  alert  and  ag 
gressive,  to  torment  him.  As  he  moved  in 
the  direction  of  the  square,  he  passed  one 
of  the  station  windows  and  glanced  in.  A 
clock  high  upon  the  wall  informed  him 
that  it  was  quarter-past  eleven. 

"I  must  have  a  beer,  if  it  takes  my  last 
nickel,"  he  said,  moistening  his  parched 
lips  with  his  tongue. 

Presently  he  rounded  the  corner  of  the 
station,  and  stood  in  the  full  glare  of  the 
electric  lights.  There  were  a  few  men 
seated  upon  the  hotel  steps,  and  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  open  space  a  trolley-car 
was  putting  down  a  passenger,  otherwise 
there  was  no  indication  of  life.  Rossiter 


THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL  15 

plunged  a  hand  into  one  of  his  trousers' 
pockets  and  drew  forth  four  coins, — a  five- 
cent  piece  and  three  pennies.  He  knew 
that  it  would  be  folly  to  attempt  to  enter 
the  hotel,  so  he  started  along  the  north 
side  of  the  square  in  search  of  a  saloon. 
,He  did  not  have  to  go  far.  A  gaily  illu 
mined  place,  which  went  by  the  name  of 
"The  Keneseo  Thirst  Parlor,"  soon 
caught  his  eye.  Two  men,  whom  he  had 
not  noted  in  his  first  survey  of  the  square, 
were  lounging  upon  opposite  sides  of  the 
door. 

"Is  that  yer  las'  chaw  o'  terbaccer  ye've 
got  in  yer  face,  Bill?"  demanded  one  of 
the  other  as  Bossiter  approached. 

The  expression  was  not  new  to  him.  He 
had  heard  it  before  among  men  of  the 
class  to  which  these  loafers  belonged,  the 
class  to  whose  level,  or  lower,  he  himself 
had  sunk,  but  it  now  carried  with  it  an 
unwonted  reproach.  It  revealed  to  him 
with  painful  vividness  his  own  position  in 
the  world,  and  he  cursed  the  fate  that  had 
caused  him  to  leave  the  freight-train. 
Illica  was  potent  in  rousing  the  unwelcome 
spectre  of  the  past,  in  stirring  memories 
that  he  had  fancied  dead  or  so  somnolent 


16  A  KNIGHT  or  THE  HIGHWAY 

that  they  would  never  waken  to  plague 
him,  in  kindling  longings  that  he  had  for 
many  a  day  resolutely  banished. 

As  Rossiter  drew  near,  and  it  became 
evident  that  he  was  seeking  the  saloon, 
the  two  loungers  stepped  back  to  allow 
him  to  enter,  scanning  him  with  leering 
curiosity  as  he  walked  toward  the  bar. 
With  one  hand  he  tossed  his  little  bundle 
of  clothes  upon  the  polished  slab  behind 
which,  in  trousers  and  gauze  undershirt,  a 
close-cropped,  red-faced  Irish-American 
was  standing,  and  with  the  other  cast 
down  his  last  precious  nickel. 

"A  glass  of  beer,  for  heaven's  sake!" 
said  he. 

The  saloon-keeper  shot  an  amused 
glance  at  him,  seized  a  beer-mug,  turned 
a  spigot,  held  the  mug  up,  eyeing  its  con 
tents  critically,  blew  off  the  foam,  put  it 
beneath  the  tap  again,  and  then  placed  it 
before  Rossiter  with  a  flourish. 

"Still  hotter 'n  'ell!"  he  remarked. 

Rossiter  answered  with  a  little  nod  of 
assent,  and  then  gave  himself  over  to  the 
luxury  of  the  beaded  draught.  No  bottle 
of  wine  quaffed  in  his  primrose  days  had 
ever  afforded  him  quite  the  satisfaction  he 


THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL  17 

experienced  from  that  plebeian  beer.  He 
set  the  mug  down  with  a  sigh. 

"Have  another?"  asked  the  saloon 
keeper. 

Rossiter  smiled  regretfully  and  pro 
duced  his  three  remaining  pennies,  chink 
ing  them  in  his  hand. 

"Guess  not,"  he  answered. 

' '  Oh,  well, ' '  said  the  man  behind  the  bar 
good-naturedly,  "I  see  you're  ruther  down 
on  yer  luck.  I'll  stan'  treat.  They's 
some  crackers  over  there,"  he  added, 
pointing  to  a  nicked  dish  that  stood  upon 
a  table  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 

Rossiter  helped  himself  to  a  generous 
handful,  and,  returning,  took  up  the  brim 
ming  mug  that  was  awaiting  him. 

"Here's  looking  at  you,"  he  said.  "My 
best  thanks." 

"Goin'  hop-pickin',  I  suppose?"  said 
the  saloon-keeper  tossing  off  his  "pony." 

"Hadn't  thought  of  it,"  replied  Rossi 
ter,  who  now  recalled  that  it  was  the  sea 
son  of  the  hop-harvest,  when  there  was  a 
large  influx  of  people  into  Illica  on  their 
way  to  the  hop-fields,  a  dozen  miles  or  so 
back  among  the  hills. 

"Thought  likely  ye  were.     They's  a  big 


18  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

crowd  goin'  this  year.  They  say  the 
crop's  heavy,  and  the  price  fer  pickin' 
good. ' ' 

An  idea  flashed  into  Bossiter's  brain. 

''I  wonder  if  I  could  get  a  chance  to 
pick?"  he  queried. 

"Gosh,  yes!"  said  the  saloon-keeper, 
"plenty  o'  chance  if  ye  keep  sober." 

Rossiter  made  some  additional  inquiries 
in  regard  to  the  matter  of  hop-picking, 
then,  as  the  saloon-keeper  suggested  that 
he  guessed  he'd  shut  up,  the  vagrant  took 
his  bundle  from  the  bar  and  sought  the 
street. 

'  *  I  might  try  it, ' '  he  mused  as  he  strolled 
aimlessly  in  the  direction  of  the  station. 
"I'll  see  how  it  strikes  me  in  the  morn 
ing." 

Reaching  the  railway  tracks,  he  halted 
for  a  moment  in  indecision.  The  station 
was  closed,  so  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to 
get  an  hour  or  two  of  rest  upon  one  of  the 
seats  under  the  plea  that  he  was  waiting 
for  a  train.  Turning  to  the  left,  he- 
walked  parallel  with  the  tracks  for  more 
than  thrice  a  score  of  paces,  crossed  a  de 
serted  street,  and  descried  directly  in 
front  of  him  a  freight-house,  along  all 


THE  NE'ER-DO-WELL  19 

sides  of  which  a  platform  extended.  On 
the  side  towards  the  railway  some  freight- 
cars  were  standing  upon  a  switch.  He 
gained  the  platform  and  began  trying  the 
doors  of  these  cars.  They  were  all  secure 
ly  fastened,  however,  so  he  slipped  down 
between  one  of  them  and  the  platform, 
beneath  which  he  groped  his  way  till  he 
found  where  some  chips  and  sweepings 
had  been  thrown.  Here  he  arranged  his 
bundle  for  a  pillow,  stretched  himself  out, 
and  was  soon  calmly  slumbering.  Night 
long  near  him  darkened  express-trains 
went  rushing  by  or  began  to  slacken  speed 
with  a  hiss  of  steam  and  a  grating  of 
wheels,  but  they  disturbed  him  not,  and 
when  the  breezeless  dawn  began  to  break 
he  was  still  sleeping  as  peacefully  as 
though  his  bed  were  one  of  luxury. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BY  THE  MOHONDAGA 

ROSSITEE'S  rest  was  broken  the 
next  morning  by  the  rattle  and 
creak  of  a  hand-truck  on  the 
boards  above  his  head.  Through 
the  open  space  between  the  ground  and 
the  floor  of  the  freight-car  just  in  front 
of  him  he  could  see  the  sunlight  gleaming 
upon  the  rails,  and  so  knew  that  it  was 
broad  day.  Commonly,  on  awakening,  he 
was  in  no  haste  to  be  stirring,  but  on  this 
occasion  he  displayed  an  unusual  activity. 
Almost  as  soon  as  he  realized  that  the 
wonted  round  of  busy  men  had  begun,  he 
sat  up,  shook  the  dirt  from  his  bundle  and 
from  his  clothes  and  crept  from  his  shel 
ter.  Crawling  under  the  freight-car,  so 
that  no  one  about  the  freight-house  should 
see  him  and  suspect  him  of  mischief,  he 
stepped  off  briskly,  rubbing  the  sleep 
from  his  eyes. 

The  air  was  still  fresh  with  the  cool  of 
the  dawn,  but  the  sun  was  blear  and  red 
through  the  haze  that  curtained  the 
heavens,  and  there  was  every  indication 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  21 

of  another  sweltering  day.  On  glancing 
along  the  street  upon  which  the  freight- 
house  faced,  Rossiter  noted,  not  far  dis 
tant,  a  large  sign  extending  over  the 
sidewalk.  "STABLING"  was  the  word 
which,  years  previous,  had  been  traced 
upon  it.  As  Rossiter  drew  near  the  sign 
he  beheld  a  wide  gate  which  gave  en 
trance  to  an  extensive  yard  in  the  rear 
of  a  second-  or  third-class  hotel.  Upon 
the  yard  a  long  shed  opened  and  likewise 
a  capacious  barn.  In  the  centre  of  the 
barn  door-way  a  hostler  was  leisurely 
grooming  a  horse.  Towards  this  man  the 
vagrant  advanced. 

"Can  I  get  a  job? "asked  he,  as  he  came 
within  speaking  distance.  "I'd  be  willing 
to  work  for  a  bit  of  breakfast." 

The  hostler  paused,  currycomb  in  one 
hand,  brush  in  the  other. 

"Know  anythin'  about  a  hoss?"  he  de 
manded,  surveying  the  applicant  with 
considerable  doubt. 

"Yes,"  said  Rossiter,  "something." 

"Le's  see." 

The  vagabond  dropped  his  bundle,  and 
the  man  gave  currycomb  and  brush  to  him. 

"You'll    do,"    he    said   presently.     "I 


giss  ye  kin  earn  yer  brekfust  all  right 
enough."  He  moved  away,  and  Eossiter 
heard  him  changing  the  bedding  in  the 
stalls.  Then  he  climbed  to  the  loft  and 
began  pitching  down  hay.  After  a  little 
he  descended,  and  soon  appeared  leading 
another  horse. 

1  i  That  '11  do  f er  the  bay, ' '  he  said  '  <  Try 
yer  hand  on  this  'un." 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  new  stableman 
continued  his  labors,  when  the  hostler  an 
nounced  that  it  was  time  for  "grub." 
After  a  refreshing  wash  at  the  barn  pump 
Eossiter  followed  his  companion  into  a 
small,  bare  room  which  was  filled  with  the 
odor  of  cooking.  It  was  a  plain  meal  that 
the  two  men  sat  down  to,  but  it  was  ex 
ceedingly  palatable.  Neither  spoke  while 
eating,  and  the  maid  who  attended  to  their 
wants  evidently  considered  herself  decid 
edly  above  them,  for  she  did  not  deign  to 
address  them  with  so  much  as  a  single 
word.  When  they  had  finished  they  went 
out  together. 

"Say,"  said  the  hostler,  as  they  halted 
in  the  centre  of  the  stable  yard,  "how'd 
ye  like  my  job  fer  a  couple  o'  weeks?  I 
want  to  go  hop-pickin '. " 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  23 

"I  think  some  of  going  myself,"  replied 
Eossiter. 

"Oh,  yer  do,  eh?  AVell,  if  ye  don't  con 
clude  ter  go,  I'd  be  glad  to  have  ye  come 
'ere.  Ye 're  a  pritty  tidy  hand  with  a 
boss." 

* '  Thanks.    AVliat  's  the  job  worth  I ' ' 

"Five  a  week,  with  feed  an'  lodgin'." 

"When  would  you  want  to  know?" 

"Any  time  to-day  'ud  do." 

"All  right.  I'll  drop  around  to-night 
and  tell  you  if  I'll  come.  If  you  don't  see 
me  again,  you'll  have  to  find  another 
chap,"  and  Eossiter  sought  the  street. 

"Here's  luck!"  he  ejaculated.  "May  be 
things  are  going  to  take  a  turn  at  last." 
He  straightened  himself,  and  something 
of  the  reckless  sullenness  left  his  face. 

"I  must  find  a  quiet  spot  and  think  it 
out,"  he  mused. 

He  crossed  the  railway  tracks,  and 
struck  into  a  narrow  street  which,  he  re 
called,  formerly  led  to  the  base-ball 
grounds  and  the  river.  It  was  a  squalid 
neighborhood  in  the  old  days,  he  remem 
bered,  and  it  did  not  appear  to  have 
changed  materially  during  the  years  that 
had  elapsed  since  he  had  last  viewed  it. 


24  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

Bagged  children  were  rolling  in  the  dirt 
by  the  roadside,  slatternly  women  even  at 
that  hour — nine  o'clock  had  not  yet  struck 
— were  gossiping  from  window  to  window, 
and  two  or  three  men  as  unkempt  as  Eos- 
siter  himself  were  squirting  tobacco-juice 
over  the  dilapidated  board  sidewalk.  Both 
women  and  men  eyed  him  furtively  as  he 
went  by,  and  one  of  the  former  flung  a 
coarse  jibe  after  him. 

He  found  an  open  field  where  the  fenced 
base-ball  grounds  had  been,  and  beyond 
this,  as  in  the  past,  stretched  a  level 
meadow,  sweeping  away  beyond  the  river 
to  the  base  of  haze-wrapt  hills.  Quarter 
of  a  mile  distant  he  noticed  a  group  of 
elms  upon  the  banks  of  the  stream,  and 
towards  these  he  directed  his  steps.  When 
he  reached  them  he  cast  himself  upon  the 
sward  in  the  shade  and  set  his  back 
against  one  of  the  massive  boles.  Behind 
him  was  the  city,  slowly  beginning  to 
steam  with  heat  under  the  pitiless  sun; 
before  him  was  the  languid  river,  low 
from  drought,  lazing  between  its  irregular 
and  freshet- washed  banks.  Far  overhead 
in  the  lofty  boughs  was  the  faint  twitter 
of  bird-song. 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  25 

This  was  what  Rossiter  loved.  The  city 
meant  nothing  to  him  but  miserable  fail 
ure,  but  the  free  air  of  the  country  carried 
with  it  a  certain  peace  of  spirit,  and  for 
the  most  part  a  large  forgetfulness.  Dur 
ing  the  three  years  of  his  wanderings  the 
virus  of  vagabondage  had  so  permeated 
his  every  fibre  that  he  rarely  longed  for 
the  existence  he  had  once  known.  When 
he  was  candid  with  himself  he  admitted 
that  it  was  an  irreparable  blot  upon  his 
manhood  that  he  did  not  strive  to  rise 
from  the  slough  into  which  his  own  weak 
ness  had  dragged  him.  At  rare  intervals, 
when  thoughts  of  re-entering  the  struggle 
came  to  him,  there  was  always  the  old 
weakness  to  combat,  the  realization  that 
not  twice  but  thrice  he  had  played  fast  and 
loose  with  his  chances  in  the  world,  and  so 
he  allowed  himself  to  drift.  There  was 
nothing  inherently  bad  in  Rossiter 's  na 
ture;  there  was  no  dishonor  to  be  laid  at 
his  door.  If  he  had  assumed  something  of 
the  uncouth  manners  and  familiarized 
himself  with  the  low  language  of  the  men 
with  whom  he  frequently  associated,  these 
were  surface  matters,  things  which,  if  oc 
casion  demanded,  would  be  sloughed  as  a 


26  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

snake  drops  its  skin.  Weak  though  he 
was,  and  reckless  though  he  had  been 
when  fortune  was  his,  back  of  all  was  a 
fineness  that  those  who  came  into  any 
thing  like  intimate  contact  with  him  could 
but  notice.  The  lack  of  a  mother's  love 
and  guidance,  and  a  mistaken  generosity 
and  a  subsequent  obtuse  insistance  on  the 
part  of  his  father,  accounted  for  much  in 
the  wreck  he  had  made  of  everything  to 
which  he  had  put  his  hand.  Born  with  a 
keen  artistic  sense,  endowed  with  an  un 
usual  amount  of  real  literary  talent,  his 
likings  had  always  been  made  light  of  at 
home,  and  when  it  came  to  the  choice  of 
a  career  he  had  that  forced  upon  him  for 
which  he  had  a  positive  distaste. 

Then  his  father  died;  a  considerable 
amount  of  money  fell  to  him ;  false  friends 
flattered  and  cajoled;  and  very  soon  he 
was  penniless.  His  elder  brother  helped 
him  to  a  position,  but  though  he  did  his 
best,  his  apparent  indifference  brought 
about  his  dismissal.  His  sister's  husband 
now  tried  to  give  him  a  lift,  but  the  recip 
ient  soon  discovered  that  he  was  a  hin 
drance  rather  than  an  aid,  and  so  one 
night,  returning  from  his  work  di scour- 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  27 

aged  and  embittered,  and  being  re 
proached  by  his  sister  for  his  general 
uselessness,  he  went  to  his  room,  put  a  few 
traps  together,  slung  them  upon  a  stout 
cane  over  his  shoulder,  and  walked  out 
into  the  darkness,  from  that  hour  a  vag 
abond,  wandering  whither  fancy  led,  now 
working  at  this  or  that,  now  begging,  suf 
fering  sometimes,  but  not  without  a  cer 
tain  enjoyment  in  life,  vastly  happier  than 
he  had  been  when  he  felt  himself  depen 
dent  on,  and  a  reproach  to,  those  who  were 
his  nearest  of  kin.  Such  was  the  story  of 
this  ne'er-do-well,  a  story  of  weakness,  of 
folly,  of  heedlessness,  but  not  one  of  crime 
or  of  dishonor. 

Having  settled  himself  to  his  satisfac 
tion  under  the  lofty  elm,  Rossiter  opened 
the  bundle  which  he  had  cast  by  his  side— 
a  dilapidated  change  of  underwear,  a  pair 
of  socks,  a  vest,  and  an  outing  shirt — and 
extracted  a  briar-wood  pipe  of  cheap 
make  and  a  small  piece  of  smoking-plug. 
From  the  tobacco  he  cut  with  miserly  care 
enough  to  fill  half  the  pipe-bowl,  and  hav 
ing  lighted  it  leaned  back  with  a  sigh  of 
comfort.  It  was  the  first  indulgence  of  the 
kind  he  had  allowed  himself  for  several 


28 


days,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  permitting 
himself  to  enjoy  so  epicurean  a  pleasure 
at  this  morning  hour  indicated  that  some 
thing  of  unusual  moment  was  occupying 
his  mind. 

After  having  blown,  to  his  intense  satis 
faction,  two  or  three  fragrant  clouds  into 
the  warm  September  air,  he  took  from  his 
pocket  a  square  envelope,  from  which  he 
drew  a  letter.  This  he  spread  out  before 
him  upon  one  knee.  It  read  in  this  wise : 

"DEAR  PHILIP:  I  have  heard  from  your 
former  friend,  Crossgrove,  that  you  have  again 
been  seen  in  or  near  Kalamanti,  and  I  am  send 
ing  this  enclosed  in  a  note  to  him  in  the  hope  of 
reaching  you.  For  the  sake  of  our  dead  father 
and  mother,  for  your  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of 
us  all,  I  want  you  to  come  back  for  another 
trial.  Will  you  not?  On  the  first  of  October 
the  Evening  Star  passes  into  the  hands  of  an 
acquaintance  of  mine,  George  Agnew,  who  in 
tends  making  some  sweeping  changes  in  the 
staff.  Recalling  some  sketches  and  skits  you 
once  wrote  which  received  much  pleasant  com 
ment,  and  the  leanings  you  formerly  had  towards 
literature,  which  father  (very  unfortunately  and 
injudiciously,  I  now  believe)  so  insistently  dis 
couraged,  I  spoke  of  you  to  Mr.  Agnew,  who 
has  very  generously  offered  to  give  you  a 
chance  on  the  paper.  October  first,  as  I  said 
above,  is  the  date  when  the  change  in  man- 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  29 

agement  takes  place,  and  if,  by  good  fortune, 
you  receive  this  letter,  I  beg  that  you  will  not 
allow  this  (perhaps  last)  opportunity  to  re 
trieve  yourself  to  slip  from  you.  I  hope  that 
you  will  believe  me  still 

"Your  affectionate  brother, 

"ARCHIBALD  ROSSITER." 

"It's  mighty  good  of  Archie,"  com 
mented  the  wanderer,  "a  blamed  sight  too 
good!  I  don't  deserve  it.  I'd  probably 
make  a  mess  of  it,  just  as  I  have  of  every 
thing  else  but  this,"  and  he  glanced  down 
at  his  worn  and  dusty  shoes,  and  at  his 
faded  and  weather- stained  garb.  "And 
yet, — well,  it's  what  I  always  used  to 
think  I'd  like,  and  here  I  am  more  than 
half  way  there." 

When  his  brother's  missive  had  been 
handed  to  him  two  weeks  previous  he  had 
been  upon  the  point  of  turning  south.  In 
stead  he  set  his  face  eastward,  not  with  a 
definite  idea  of  falling  in  with  what  his 
brother  had  proposed,  but  with  that  pos 
sibility  in  view.  Now,  after  having  had 
the  past  so  vividly  brought  before  him  by 
his  unforeseen  tarry  in  Illica,  after  having 
experienced  emotions  that  he  had  fancied 
belonged  almost  totally  to  a  different  en- 


30  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

vironment,  he  was  more  strongly  moved 
than  ever  thus  to  challenge  fate. 

But  the  old  weakness,  the  hesitancy,  the 
dislike  of  responsibility,  fostered  by  his 
roving  life  was  not  lightly  to  be  overcome ; 
so  he  lay  and  debated.  Against  his  un 
doubted  desire  to  redeem  himself,  a  desire 
which  was  gradually  strengthening,  rose 
the  consciousness  of  former  failure,  and 
also  the  undeniable  fascination  his  present 
existence  had  come  to  have  for  him.  Half 
an  hour  slipped  away,  an  hour,  and  it  was 
mid-morning.  The  heat  increased,  and  the 
reclining  man  grew  drowsy. 

Vaguely,  as  in  a  dream,  he  marked  two 
figures  cross  his  angle  of  vision  and  follow 
the  river  bank  to  a  point  not  many  rods 
from  where  he  was  lying.  He  saw  these 
persons  begin  to  divest  themselves  of  their 
clothes,  commented  to  himself  that  they 
were  going  for  a  swim,  and  here  his 
scarcely  aroused  curiosity  ceased.  He 
closed  his  eyes  and  presently  lost  con 
sciousness.  Twenty  minutes  had  elapsed 
when  a  scream  rent  the  quiet  air,  a  sharp, 
boyish  cry  of  terror.  At  the  second  out 
cry,  louder  and  shriller  than  the  first, 
Eossiter  sat  up.  A  naked  form  was  leap- 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  31 

ing  wildly  about  upon  the  river  bank,  with 
arms  outflung,  sending  forth  one  terrified 
shriek  after  another.  To  Eossiter's  ears 
the  shouts  now  resolved  themselves  into,— 

"Help!  help!" 

The  awakened  man  was  on  his  feet  in  an 
instant.  In  such  an  emergency  as  this  his 
habitual  indecision  did  not  show  itself. 
Off  went  his  cap,  coat  and  shoes,  and  away 
he  sprang  over  the  sward  towards  the  dis 
traught  figure.  He  was  naturally  fleet  of 
foot,  and  his  muscles  were  hard  from  hun 
dreds  of  leagues  of  tramping. 

The  youth,  for  such  Kossiter  saw  the 
shouter  to  be,  grew  more  frantic  as  he 
realized  that  aid  was  approaching,  turning 
first  towards  the  stream  and  then  in  the 
direction  from  which  assistance  was  com 
ing. 

"Oh,  quick!  be  quick!"  he  cried,  but 
now  his  voice  seemed  to  fail  him,  and  he 
did  little  more  than  utter  a  series  of  in 
coherent  sounds. 

Once  within  view  of  the  river,  Eossiter 
was  not  slow  to  grasp  the  situation.  In 
mid-stream  was  a  bather,  who,  by  a  spas 
modic  action  of  one  hand,  was  just  con 
triving  to  keep  his  head  above  the  surface. 


32  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

He  was  swallowing  great  gulps  of  water 
with  every  movement,  and  was  unques 
tionably  on  the  verge  of  sinking. 

"Stick  to  it!"  yelled  Eossiter,  without 
slackening  speed,  "I'll  be  with  you  in  a 
minute. ' ' 

One  spring  took  him  down  upon  the 
caked  mud  below  the  overhanging  sod,  and 
a  second  carried  him  waist  deep  into  the 
river.  Then  he  struck  out  with  vigor 
ous  strokes.  He  approached  the  exhausted 
swimmer  cautiously,  knowing  if  he  would 
save  him  he  must  not  allow  himself  to  be 
caught  in  his  drowning  grip.  When  just 
beyond  the  reach  of  his  arms  he  paused. 
The  poor  fellow  made  a  frantic  effort  to 
seize  hold  upon  him,  but  Eossiter  was 
watchful  and  easily  eluded  his  grasp.  It 
was  like  the  last  flicker  of  a  dying  flame. 
With  a  gasp  and  a  gurgle  the  man  gave 
over  the  struggle.  Here  was  Eossiter 's 
opportunity,  and  he  was  alert  to  improve 
it.  As  the  sinking  bather's  head  was  dis 
appearing  he  gave  a  powerful  forward 
plunge.  Out  went  his  hand,  and  his  strong 
fingers  were  fastened  in  a  mop  of  soaking 
hair.  There  was  but  a  spark  of  conscious 
ness  left  in  the  body  of  the  man  when  Eos- 


BY  THE  MOHONDAGA  33 

siter  jerked  his  head  above  water.  He 
was  well-nigh  a  dead  weight,  and  his 
rescuer  had  no  difficulty  in  whirling  him 
about  and  gripping  him  beneath  the  arm 
pits.  In  this  wise  lie  pushed  him  ashore. 
He  began  to  revive  a  little  as  shallow 
water  was  reached,  and  was  able,  witli 
Rossiter's  ami  encircling  his  waist,  to 
drag  himself  up  to  the  grass  of  the  bank, 
where  he  sank  in  a  limp  heap.  Presently 
he  began  to  vomit  violently,  whereat  the 
boy  who  had  been  standing  by,  mouth 
agape  and  speechless,  commenced  to  moan 
and  whimper. 

"It's  the  best  thing  that  could  happen," 
said  Rossiter  reassuringly.  "He'll  come 
around  all  right  shortly." 

Indeed,  it  was  not  long  before  the  res 
cued  man  sat  up,  a  look  of  disgust  and 
loathing  upon  his  features. 

"Mother  of  Moses!"  he  exclaimed,  "but 
I  shouldn't  want  Mohondaga  water  for  a 
steady  diet ! ' ' 

He  caught  Rossiter's  eye  and  smiled. 

"You  were  just  in  time,"  he  said. 
"Jim,  there,  ain't  worth  shucks.  He 
can't  swim  a  stroke.  Another  minute  an' 
I'd  'a'  croaked." 


34  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

1  i  It  was  rather  a  close  shave, ' '  observed 
Bossiter. 

"Gee,  yes!"  This  was  said  with  con 
siderable  emphasis,  and  a  suspicion  of 
color  began  to  creep  into  the  young  man's 
pallid  cheeks. 

He  was  perhaps  twenty-six  or  -seven 
years  of  age,  and  as  Eossiter  now  glanced 
from  his  face  to  that  of  the  boy,  who  had 
edged  close  to  him,  he  saw  at  once  from 
the  strong  resemblance  between  them  that 
they  must  be  brothers,  the  younger  being 
hardly  more  than  sixteen.  They  were  not 
unattractive  faces,  either  of  them,  and  in 
the  elder's  Eossiter  read  lines  of  deter 
mination  and  self-reliance  that  made  him 
for  the  instant  envious.  Both  were  slimly 
fashioned,  with  a  slight  stoop  to  the  shoul 
ders,  and  both  had  the  lifeless  complexions 
of  those  who  spend  little  time  in  the  open 
air.  They  had  clear  eyes  of  steel-blue, 
and  the  hair  of  the  elder  curled  slightly. 
He  had,  moreover,  an  insignificant  brown 
mustache. 

"Come  out  in  the  sun,"  said  Eossiter 
to  the  one  he  had  rescued;  "it'll  brace 
you  up." 

He  gave  the  young  man  a  helping  hand, 


BY   THE   MOHONDAGA  35 

and  steadied  him  after  he  had  got  upon 
his  feet. 

"Gripe,  but  I'm  weak!"  the  whiiom 
swimmer  said.  "You  wouldn't  think  it 
'ud  take  it  out  of  a  fellow  so,"  and  he  sat 
down  near  where  he  had  laid  his  clothes. 

Rossiter  now  began  to  realize  the  con 
dition  of  his  own  garments. 

"I  believe  I'll  have  to  wring  my  things 
out,"  he  remarked,  "and  let  them  dry  in 
the  sun,"  and  he  proceeded  forthwith  to 
put  this  scheme  into  execution. 

For  a  space  little  was  said,  the  two 
brothers  absently  watching  the  vagrant  as 
he  spread  his  worn  articles  of  apparel  on 
the  grass.  Finally  the  elder  spoke  up 
quickly. 

"How'd  you  happen  along  just  as  you 
did?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh,  I  was  having  a  nap  over  yonder," 
answered  Eossiter,  waving  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  the  elm  under  which  he  had 
been  reclining,  "ana  I  heard  your  brother 
shout." 

"Having  a  nap,  eh?"  this  with  consider 
able  surprise,  as  though  the  speaker  could 
not  understand  the  philosophy  of  a  mid- 
morning  indulgence  of  that  character. 


36  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

"Yes,  but — "  with  a  swift  shift  of  the 
topic  of  conversation — "you  haven't  told 
me  what  was  the  trouble  with  you  out 
there,"  and  Rossiter  nodded  towards  the 
water. 

"Oh,  a  cramp  caught  me.  I  must  have 
been  too  warm  when  I  went  in.  It  doubled 
me  all  up  on  one  side,  and  I  called  to  Jim, 
who  was  paddlin'  about  in  shallow  water. 
He  ran  out  onto  the  bank  scart  stiff,  and 
began  yellin'  like  mad.  It's  darn  lucky  he 
did,  I  guess." 

At  this  the  younger  brother  laughed 
foolishly. 

"Say,"  continued  the  elder,  "you've 
done  me  a  blamed  good  turn— 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  Rossiter,  in 
terrupting  him. 

"But,  by  gosh,  I'm  goin'  to!"  cried  the 
young  man.  "What  do  you  take  me  for? 
Now,  as  I  say,  you've  done  me  a  good 
turn,  and  I'd  like  to  do  you  one,  if  you'll 
let  me." 

He  looked  at  Rossiter  appealingly. 

"Well,"  said  the  latter. 

"You're  in  hard  luck,  ain't  you?  No 
offence  meant." 

Rossiter  lowered  his  eyes. 


BY   THE   MOHONDAGA  37 

''Suppose  I  am?"  said  he. 

"Got  any  thin'  at  all  to  do?" 

"I  had  an  offer  this  morning." 

"Somethin'  that  you  care  about?" 

"I  can't  say  that  it  is." 

"Come  along  with  us,  then!"  this  with 
a  sudden  enthusiastic  burst  of  confidence. 
"My  mother  'nd  sister  'nd  Jim  'nd  me's 
goin'  hop-pickin'.  We've  just  come  up 
this  mornin'  from  Fallsburg  down  the 
river  where  we  live,  and  are  goin'  into  the 
country  this  afternoon.  Fine  place,  bully 
'grub',  'nd  all  that!  A  chum  o'  mine  was 
to  have  been  along,  but  he  backed  out  at 
the  last  minute,  so  it'll  be  all  o.  k.,  won't 
it,  Jim?" 

"Sure!"  exclaimed  the  boy. 

Eossiter  was  more  than  surprised  at 
this  spontaneous  proposal.  He  was  not 
accustomed  to  gratitude,  and  that  he 
should  inspire  anyone  with  enough  confi 
dence  to  suggest  such  an  arrangement 
struck  him  will  something  like  amazement. 
But  the  more  he  meditated  upon  the  sug 
gestion  the  more  tempting  it  was  to  him. 
Three  weeks  and  a  half  had  yet  to  elapse 
before  the  first  of  October.  If  he  should 
decide  to  return  and  accept  the  offer  made 


38  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

by  his  brother's  acquaintance,  here  was 
an  opening  which  would  enable  him  to  go 
back  with  a  little  money  in  his  pocket, 
doubtless  more  than  he  could  earn  as  a 
hostler. 

"It's  mighty  good  of  you  to  mention 
such  a  thing,"  said  he.  "Are  you  sure 
you  really  mean  it!" 

"Mean  it!"  echoed  the  young  man, — 
"well,  I  guess!" 

"Then  I'm  with  you!"  exclaimed  Ros- 
siter,  surprised  the  instant  he  had  spoken 
at  his  own  earnestness  and  decision. 

"My  name  's  Joe  Becraft,"  said  the 
young  man,  "and  this  is  my  brother  Jim." 

"Mine  is  Philip  Rossiter, — Phil,  if  you 
like,"  said  the  vagabond,  and  then  he  was 
suddenly  conscious  that  he  had  given  his 
full  name  for  the  first  time  in  three  years. 
Ross  he  had  been  accustomed  to  call  him 
self  when  there  was  any  question  of  iden 
tity. 

"Is  it  a  good  omen,"  he  asked  himself, 
"or  is  it  but  the  beginning  of  another 
failure?" 


CHAPTER  III. 

OFF  FOB  THE   HOP-FIELDS 

YOU  see  it's  like  this,"  Joe  Becraft 
was  saying  as  the  three  trudged 
slowly  in  the  blazing  sun  across 
the  meadow  towards  the  city. 
•"The  mill  where  I've  been  workin'  these 
six  years,  an'  where  Jim's  just  startin'  in, 
has  shut  down  a  month  for  repairs,  so 
we're  gettin'  a  holiday.  Ma  always  goes 
pickin'  hops,  an'  Mame, — she's  my  sister, 
—but  Jim  an'  me,  we  ain't  so  lucky  every 
year. ' ' 

"You  like  it  then?"  inquired  Eossiter. 

"You'd  better  believe  I  do.  So'd  you 
if  you  were  shut  up  in  a  mill  all  the  rest  of 
the  time." 

"Haven't  you  a  good  position?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  not  kickin'.  I'm  under- 
overseer  in  the  cardin'-room.  I'll  get  to 
be  overseer,  perhaps,  one  of  these  days, 
-an'  then — "  He  broke  off.  There  was 
a  happy  look  in  his  eyes  and  he  gave  a 
little  laugh,  while  Jim  chuckled  audibly. 

"What  are  you  snickerin'  at,  you  young 
jay?"  cried  his  brother,  making  a  pretence 


4:0  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

of  being  provoked,  and  vainly  trying  to 
cuff  the  offender. 

The  more  Kossiter  talked  with  the  elder 
Becraft  the  more  did  he  grow  to  respect 
if  not  to  admire  him,  he  was  so  wholly 
natural,  so  independent,  so  self-poised, 
and  yet  so  entirely  without  conceit.  He 
was  uneducated,  save  in  a  rudimentary 
way,  having  been  the  mainstay  of  the 
family  for  eight  years,  yet  he  kept  himself 
informed  on  the  topics  of  the  day,  and  had 
his  opinions  on  public  affairs,  which  were 
more  free  from  bias  than  the  views  held 
by  most  of  those  in  his  station  in  life. 
Crude  he  was,  but  earnest,  frank,  and 
warm-hearted,  and  Kossiter  was  shamed 
when  he  contrasted  his  own  weakness  and 
lack  of  purpose  with  this  young  fellow's 
unassuming  strength. 

As  the  three  reached  the  square  beyond 
the  railway  tracks,  Eossiter  noticed  that 
Joe  Becraft  was  beginning  to  lag  and 
show  signs  of  exhaustion. 

" You'd  better  have  a  drink  of  whiskey 
to  brace  you  up,"  he  said. 

"A  milk  shake  will  do  the  business," 
Becraft  replied.  "It's  too  hot  for  whis 
key.  Maybe  you'd  like  a  nip,  though,"  he 


OFF  FOB  THE  HOP-FIELDS  41 

added,  with  a  peculiar  sidelong  glance, 
which  the  vagrant  caught.  It  was  as 
though  the  younger  man  was  surmising 
what  the  elder's  habits  might  be. 

"Oh,  no,"  Rossiter  said,  not  betraying 
the  fact  that  he  noticed  Becraft's  scrutiny, 
"I'm  not  much  on  whiskey  myself.  I  like 
a  little  beer  now  and  again,  however." 

"Yes,  beer  ain't  bad,  but  the  shake  is 
what  I  need  now.  I  feel  a  bit  empty." 

They  stopped  at  a  drug  store  upon  the 
corner  above  the  saloon  where  Eossiter 
had  refreshed  himself  the  previous  night. 
A  prescription  clerk  who  was  bending  ob 
sequiously  over  a  glass  case  listening  to 
the  wants  of  two  ladies,  gave  a  frowning 
start  as  he  descried  the  bedraggled  trio, 
and  half  opened  his  lips  as  though  to  bid 
them  be  gone.  He  appeared  to  take  a 
second  thought,  however,  and  unrebuffed 
the  three  approached  the  sign-embellished 
soda-fountain,  behind  which  a  spruce 
youth  stood  grinning. 

"We've  had  an  outside  wettin',"  an 
nounced  Joe  Becraft  to  the  dispenser  of 
drinks,  nodding  at  Eossiter, "an'  we'd  like 
to  balance  off  matters  by  havin'  something 
inside.  What's  yours!  and  yours,  Jim?" 


42  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

"We'd  better  follow  your  brother's  ex 
ample,  hadn't  we?"  asked  Eossiter,  ap 
pealing  to  the  younger  Becraft. 

"Yes,  a  shake's  all  right,"  replied  Jim. 

The  youth  of  the  soda  fountain,  with  a 
series  of  flourishes,  deeming  he  had  those 
before  him  whom  he  could  impress  with 
his  dexterity,  proceeded  to  mix  the  desired 
beverage,  which  all  three  drank  through 
gelatinous-looking  tubes  in  lieu  of  straws. 

"That's  pleasanter  'an  the  drink  I  had 
down  yonder, ' '  remarked  Joe  Becraft  as  he 
finished,  a  merry  glint  leaping  into  his  eyes. 

Presently  they  stood  again  upon  the 
sidewalk  together. 

"My  mother's  waitin'  at  the  Mansion 
Hotel,"  said  the  elder  Becraft.  "That's 
where  the  hop-wagon's  to  come  for  us 
about  two  o'clock.  Now  before  we  go  up, 
for  we  want  you  to  come  along  with  us, 
I've  got  something  to  propose.  You'll 
take  it  all  right,  won't  you?" 

"Perhaps  I  know  what  it  is,"  answered 
Kossiter,  for  several  times  he  had  seen 
Becraft  furtively  regarding  his  hair  and 
beard. 

"Do  you?" 

"I  can  guess." 


OFF  FOR  THE  HOP-FIELDS  43 

"Well,  if  that's  the  case,  you  ain't 
a-goin'  to  mind,  are  you?  You  can  pay 
me  back,  you  know." 

"You'll  trust  me  to  pay  you  back, 
then?" 

"Trust  you  to?  Why,  of  course  I  will. 
You'll  pay  me  if  you've  got  anything  to 
pay  with,  an'  you'll  have  it  all  right  after 
a  little." 

"I  don't  believe  there  are  many  who 
would  take  your  view  of  it. ' ' 

"P'raps  not,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  you 
ain't  what  the  boys  would  call  'a  swell.' 
But  a  shave  an'  a  hair-cut  '11  make  a  sight 
of  difference.  I  know  of  a  place  close  by 
where  we'll  go.  A  chap  from  our  town 
keeps  it." 

As  they  turned  from  the  main  thorough 
fare,  which  was  called  Keneseo  Street,  a 
puff  of  warm  wind  blew  a  cloud  of  dust  in 
their  faces. 

"Thunder!"  ejaculated  Joe  Becraft, 
"I've  swallowed  enough  nasty  stuff  for 
one  day.  Do  you  know, ' '  he  added,  ' '  for  a 
fine  city,  this  town  has  spells  o'  bein' 
pretty  dirty,  though  it's  a  blame  sight 
better 'n  it  used  to  be." 

Rossiter  was  not  posted  in  the  matter 


44  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

of  municipal  street-cleaning,  so  he  did  not 
reply  to  these  observations.  They  had  not 
walked  more  than  a  block  when  they  saw 
a  barber's  striped  pole, and  entered  a  little 
shop  where  a  dapper  young  man,  with 
elaborately  brushed  hair  and  a  not  over- 
clean  white  duck  jacket,  was  making 
change  for  a  customer  whom  he  had  been 
shaving. 

"  Hullo,  Joe!"  said  this  individual, 
"what  are  you  up  to?" 

"Oh,  the  mill's  shut  down  for  a  few 
weeks,  an'  I'm  off  hop-pickin'  with  the 
family,"  answered  Becraft.  "Friend  of 
mine,  here,"  he  continued,  indicating  Ros- 
siter,  l  i  wants  you  to  fix  him  up. ' ' 

The  barber's  attention  was  for  the  first 
time  directed  to  the  companion  of  the  Be 
craft  brothers. 

"Say—   '  he  began. 

"No  jollyin',  now,"  interrupted  Joe. 
"He  took  an  oath  a  while  ago  that  he 
wouldn't  get  a  shave  or  a  hair-cut  till  you 
had  a  decent  railway  station  in  this  'pent- 
up'  town  of  yours,  but  he's  backed  out." 

The  barber  exploded  in  a  guffaw. 

"Lucky  for  him  he  has,"  he  answered, 
"unless  he  means  to  hire  out  to  Barnum 


OFF  FOB  THE  HOP- FIELDS  45 

an'  Bailey  or  Buffalo  Bill  as  the  wild  man 
of  Borneo." 

"While  Rossiter's  locks  were  being 
trimmed  and  his  beard  removed,  Joe  Be- 
craft  and  his  tonsorial  friend  kept  their 
tongues  continually  wagging,  Joe  also  im 
proving  the  opportunity  to  tidy  himself 
somewhat.  The  conversation  between  the 
two  had  chiefly  to  do  with  the  town  of  their 
nativity  and  a  certain  portion  of  its  in 
habitants,  and  Rossiter  listened  with  not 
a  little  inward  amusement,  for  each  young 
man  had,  in  his  way,  a  sense  of  broad 
humor  that  flashed  out  in  their  comments 
upon  people.  Finally  the  barber's  task 
was  accomplished,  and  he  removed  the 
soiled  apron  from  Rossiter's  neck  with  a 
flourish  and  a, — 

"There  you  are,  sir!" 

"Gosh!"  Joe  Becraft  exclaimed,  "I 
wouldn't  believe  you  were  the  same  fel 
low." 

The  change  in  the  vagabond's  appear 
ance  was  indeed  great.  His  rather  large, 
clear-cut  features  showed  to  an  advantage 
without  beard  or  mustache,  and  though 
the  lines  of  his  chin  indicated  a  lack  of  de 
cision,  one  studying  his  face  for  the  first 


46  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

time  would  have  said  that  its  possessor 
was  endowed  with  a  strong  individuality. 
His  deep  brown  eyes  were  laughing  and 
grave  by  turns.  The  discontent  and  bit 
terness  which  showed  in  the  expression  of 
his  mouth  were  not  to  be  seen  habitually. 
Dissipation  had  left  no  mark  upon  his 
countenance,  for  although  at  times  Bos- 
siter  had  imbibed  freely,  he  was  very  far 
from  being  a  drunkard ;  indeed,  he  had  no 
special  taste  for  liquor,  and  had  fre 
quently  resorted  to  it  not  so  much  because 
he  craved  it  as  because  it  took  him  out  of 
himself. 

Becraft  produced  some  silver  and  paid 
his  townsfellow. 

"It's  my  treat  to-day,"  he  explained. 

They  now  retraced  their  steps  to  Ken- 
eseo  Street,  and  followed  this  thorough 
fare  until  they  came  to  the  elaborate  lift- 
bridge  spanning  the  Ontario  Canal.  From 
time  to  time  Becraft  regarded  his  new 
friend  speculatively. 

"Say,"  he  at  length  broke  out,  as  the 
three  paused  and  leaned  over  the  railing, 
idly  scanning  a  steam-packet  that  was 
moored  below,  "you've  been  used  to  a 
different  sort  of  life,  haven't  you?" 


OFF  FOR  THE  HOP-FIELDS  47 

Eossiter  did  not  reply  at  once. 

"Yes,"  lie  said  finally. 

"Had  an  education,  an'  all  that?" 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  so.  You  don't  talk  like,— 
well,  like  most  of  the  people  I  know." 

"I'm  not  aware  of  any  difference." 

"Oh,  yes  you  are.  That  is,  you  would 
be  if  you'd  stop  to  think  about  it." 

"I  got  through  thinking  some  time  ago, 
at  least  I  so  imagined  until  lately." 

"You  know,  an  educaton,"  said  Becraft, 
not  heeding  Eossiter 's  last  remark,  "is 
something  I'm  always  wishin'  I  had.  It's 
a  great  thing." 

"I've  certainly  not  done  very  much 
with  mine,"  replied  the  wanderer. 

"How'd  it  happen?" 

"It's  hard  to  say.  I  don't  doubt  an 
other — you,  for  instance — would  have 
profited  by  it,  but  as  for  me—  He  ended 
with  an  expressive  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

They  continued  to  look  at  the  steam- 
packet  for  several  minutes  longer,  and 
then  resumed  their  walk  towards  the  Man 
sion  Hotel. 

"Don't  b'lieve  we'd  better  say  anythin' 
about  my  swimmin'  experience  to  Ma, 


48  A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  HIGHWAY 

Jim,"  observed  Joe  Becraft,  as  they  left 
the  main  street  for  the  narrower  thor 
oughfare  where  the  hotel  they  sought  was 
situated.  "Like  as  not  she'd  have  a  blue 
fit." 

"Bet  she  would,"  replied  Jim. 

"She's  pretty  nervous  about  my  health 
sometimes,"  Joe  explained.  "You  see, 
father  died  o'  consumption." 

"Why  should  you  ever  say  anything  to 
her  about  it?"  inquired  Eossiter.  "Cer 
tainly,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  there's  not 
the  slightest  reason  for  your  doing  so." 

"Oh,  but  I  want  her  to  know  some  day 
what  you  did  for  me.  I'll  tell  her  about  it 
up  in  the  hop-yard.  She  won't  take  on  so 
there.  I  mean,  she  won't  give  it  to  me 
quite  so  strong  about  bein'  careless,,  an' 
all  that." 

"Have  it  as  you  will,"  said  Eossiter, 
"but  I  should  be  rather  better  pleased  if 
you  made  no  mention  of  it  whatever. ' ' 

"I'm  goin'  to  introduce  you,"  said  Joe, 
"as  a  friend  who's  done  me  a  good  turn. 
That'll  explain  our  fetchin'  you  along." 

Eossiter  now  descried  in  the  distance 
the  staring  letters — MANSION  HOTEL— 
above  a  large  and  rambling  wooden  build- 


OFF  FOR  THE  HOP- FIELDS  49 

ing,  so  he  intimated  that  before  lie  met  the 
mother  and  sister  of  his  companions  he 
would  like  to  make  a  slight  change  in  his 
apparel. 

"I've  got  another  shirt  in  here,"  he 
said,  displaying  his  bundle,  "that  looks 
more  presentable  than  the  one  I'm  wear 
ing." 

"Ma  ain't  over  particular,"  said  Joe, 
but  as  Bossiter  insisted,  they  turned  up 
at  the  side  of  the  hotel  and  sought  the 
stables,  where  the  vagrant  made  the  de 
sired  alteration.  He  could  but  smile  to 
himself  as  he  was  effecting  this,  the  ex 
perience  was  so  novel  to  him.  It  was 
many  a  long  day  since  he  had  given  much 
heed  to  what  anyone  thought  of  him. 

The  hotel  stood  upon  a  corner,  and  on 
two  sides  of  it  there  was  a  wide  veranda, 
at  one  end  of  which  mother  and  daughter 
were  sitting.  The  girl  was  a  plain,  shy 
miss  of  seventeen,  while  the  mother 
proved  to  be  a  woman  of  ample  propor 
tions,  with  a  worn  but  kindly  face  which 
showed  that  her  path  through  life  had 
not  been  among  the  roses.  Her  manner 
towards  Eossiter  was  at  first  marked  by 
a  decided  reserve,  but  when  her  son  ex- 


